


Underbrush

by Katsitting (Nekositting)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Awkward Romance, Don't Try This At Home, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Katsitting
Summary: “I told you to run…”Harry squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly nauseous when the creature did not evensoundlike his commander.It was a warped version of the smooth baritone Harry often listened to when dozing off during mission debriefings. It was a predatory growl, Tom’s authoritative and dulcet purr notably absent. As though the sound had come from somewhere deep in the man’s throat.Harry tried not to flinch when Tom’s grip tightened when Harry tried to pry Tom’s hands away, when Harry shifted beneath Tom to throw the man off.“Fool…” Tom purred.





	Underbrush

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: A lust/lust pollen.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, anon! This was definitely a difficult prompt to fill, for some reason. It'd been sitting in my drive for a few months. I still have some mixed feelings, but I doubt I will ever be rid of them.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!

“You fool. _Run._ ”

Harry did not need to be told twice. He twisted away from Tom’s kneeling form and ran straight into the forest. There was no time for him to ask, to figure out for himself what was wrong. It was instinctual. The protest that had lodged itself in his throat, unspoken, when Tom’s face twisted into something Harry could not recognize.

It was rare for Harry to listen to a single word the man said. Tom was insufferable at his best and an arsehole at his worst. A _complete_ git. Especially when he wanted to get his way.

It just wasn’t in his nature to obey the man’s order. Even when Tom was his superior in rank.

But this wasn’t a petty squabble between a superior and his subordinate. This was life or death. Harry let his feet carry him through the dense foliage of this unknown planet, Tom’s order ringing in the back of his head.

_Run. Run. Run. Run._

It had been a plea, not an order.  He’d actually _pushed_ Harry away from him before demanding that he go. If it hadn’t been for that, maybe Harry might have insisted that he stay, even if instinctively, he knew that something wasn’t right. Tom had been _flushed_ , his nostrils flared as if were drinking in the smell of something pleasant in the air…

_Like a hungry predator tasting its prey on the back of its tongue._

Harry quickly discarded the thought. He needed to focus on his path, it wouldn’t do for him to dwell on these what-ifs, to let his imagination unravel into something he shouldn’t think about.

Tom had told him to run, and so he would. How else would he get back to his commander if he couldn’t make it back to the ship? To call for _help_?

Harry’s feet slapped against the ground, the soft crunch melodious to his ears even when he had no bloody clue where he was going.

The place was an endless sea of green. A labyrinth that left him with little recourse than to sprint without any direction. Unease lanced through Harry as he ran, recalling with vivid alacrity the sight of Tom’s face before Harry had twisted away despite all his efforts to keep those thoughts at bay.

There was no mistaking the primordial twist of the man’s lips when he had looked at Harry, even as he had barked for him to go. The straining veins of Tom’s forehead, and the twitching of his shoulders had made it perfectly clear that his control was waning, ready to snap and release something at any moment’s notice.

It was good that he had left, that he had listened. But—

It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty for leaving him. It made something bitter burn in the back of his throat, the fear that perhaps Harry _did_ make it back, but Tom might be lost to them. Just as many members of their crew had throughout Harry’s lifetime.

Harry shuddered as he brushed past a stubborn shrub, the branches cutting into his full body suit. It stung where the wood met actual flesh, the sound of tearing fabric and his gasping breaths loud in spite of the rapid rush of blood flooding his ears.

It was utter chaos. The mad rush of movement a sharp contrast to the almost peaceful way the trees swayed in the breeze on this planet.

It scared him more than it should have. This mockery of peace, this _pretense_ of harmlessness when something was clearly _wrong_. It made his heart thrum too rapidly in his chest, made his legs ache with how hard he was hitting the ground.

It didn’t help that he didn’t know a single thing about this planet. A small little detail Harry had ignored in favor of scoping out the terrain under the pretense of searching for the missing crew members. It should have been his first clue that this wasn’t something neither he nor Tom should have gone in alone for, there was simply no telling _why_ that ship along with fifteen other members had vanished without a trace on this planet.

Three days of absolute silence from that ship’s captain and the volatile cargo sitting in the depths of that ship.

 _God,_ what had they been thinking? It was so bloody dumb to have gone ahead without a fallback. But how was Harry supposed to know that he would lose Tom? How was he supposed to know that the person he depended on most would be writhing and twisting on the ground on the verge of losing a battle with his self-control? They’d always gone off together, Harry’s need for adventure drawing the man in like a moth to a flame.

Harry could not have predicted any of it.

And perhaps, the worst thing about this whole mess—this _stupid_ mess that they had both gotten themselves into—was the fact that Harry had left without his commander. Never in his life had he’d considered abandoning one of his crew. It was unheard of. For all his complaining, Harry would never abandon Tom.

Harry was a bleeding heart. A _soft-hearted fool_ as Tom had so eloquently put time and time again throughout their many journeys into the unknown. Harry was soft—it’d be a lie if he said otherwise. He would sooner sacrifice himself than let others take the fall, throwing himself in front of his friends like a human body shield.

But Tom had practically _begged_ him to go. Tom had been desperate, the glimmer of something _defeated_ enough to make even Harry pause mid-protest.

How could he not have listened when Tom had given him such a _look?_

Harry cried out when a stubborn tree limb bit into his suit, tearing through the fabric and cutting along his belly. Another chunk of his suit broke free, blood blooming brightly from where the sharp end stabbed into his flesh.

Glancing down, Harry pressed his lips into a grimace when he caught sight of a red line spanning from his belly to the bottom of his ribcage.

The fabric was a poor barrier for the most hostile environment around him. Harry might as well have been naked with just how unprepared he was for delving into the forest.

What had they been _thinking_ going out alone?

Harry swerved to one side when he nearly collided with a tree, too distracted by the thoughts racing through his head.

_Get it together, Harry._

This was not the time for distractions, for pondering on what they _should_ have done. Distraction meant mistakes, and mistakes in this kind of work meant _death._

_Focus, Harry. You can berate yourself about your cock up later._

So Harry ran, and _ran_ without stopping, without thinking about where he was going. His suit, if one could even call it that at this point, was tearing further apart under his hasty movements. The fabric wouldn’t last much longer, but Harry had to pray that it did.

If Harry made it out of this, the first thing he would do was make the blasted thing more durable. It was utterly useless. How did they ever make it far if the quality of their gear was this awful?

_Fuck._

The branches came at him endlessly, thorny bushes and gnarled roots cutting into his suit. They tore through fabric and skin like butter, blood oozing from the wounds. The cuts _stung_ like a bitch, like he’d bloody rolled onto a pile of angry red ants.

“Fuck!” Harry swore, biting the inside of his cheek to cut off his yowl when a thorny vine sliced along his inner thigh. The groove of each sharpened end stabbed into his leg, and it took everything within him to stop from yanking the thing straight out. It would only make it worse, make the pain more excruciating. The sharp tips of branches he could deal with, but _thorns_ had the nasty habit of getting stuck in deep wounds.

_Damn it._

With a grimace on his lips, Harry pushed past the agony and continued to run.

_Just keep moving. You’ll get to the ship and—_

Then, the cuts began to itch and burn. The thorny bite of the trees around him now overcome by the newest plague. _Perfect_ , Harry thought, _just what I needed._

A warm breeze brushed along his skin, and Harry’s skin tingled as if he were swimming through an ocean filled with jellyfish stingers. The air grew humid and damp, like a viscous and gelatinous sludge against his exposed skin.

Harry wanted to scratch his skin _raw_. As a burning heat swept through him, skin growing hotter to the touch, he was unable to cope with the strange symptoms. Sweat formed on his forehead, the small helmet covering his face fogging over with condensation.

_What is this?_

The warmth quickly became scalding.

_What?_

The shift left him strangely unbalanced. His legs, suddenly weighed down, by the suffocating pressure enveloping him.

Harry’s throat seized up, tongue poking out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

 _Could there be something in the air? Could exposure to this planet do...odd things to you?_ This was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. But then again, he knew absolutely _nothing_ about this planet. There was no way for him to know how humans might react to the elements.

His life was often riddled with uncertainties. An aspect one had to get used to with this kind of job; an aspect he’d come to _expect_ considering the number of planets they saw on one single mission. It was just how things were, and would always be; only their desire to see the mission through pushing them forward even when confronted with the worst possibilities...

A point Tom, a man that had barely survived his own journey into the unknown when he was a mere child, had ingrained in Harry during the earlier years of their association.

_Tom._

Harry's stomach plummeted at the thought of his commander.

The thought of him lost and suffering made his throat tighten, guilt and something he refused to acknowledge, making his heart ache in his chest.

It was his fault that Tom was in danger. It was _his_ fault that he was running around with no fucking _idea_ of where he was going. Tom would never have followed after Harry had he not insisted on going ahead like an _idiot—_

Harry shoved those toxic thoughts aside and focused on simply moving. He couldn’t waste time dwelling on that. Not if he wanted to get the hell out of here and make it back to the ship to warn everyone of what had happened.

_Not if he wanted to come up with a plan to rescue Tom from this nightmare, too._

But—

There was one singular thought that refused to leave. A curious thing that quickly stole his mind away from eyeing the trees around him and the broken path of nothing beyond him.

_Why had Tom done it?_

In all the time Harry had known Tom, the man had never taken the fall for anyone else. Not unless there was something to be gained later on. And even then, it was all a matter of strategy. Everyone was a chess piece to him, including Harry.

Harry did not get it at all. Tom was a selfish man. Cruel and cold. A survivor. A lone wolf that hardly played well with others.

And he had chosen to save Harry rather than subject him to the same fate as he.

 _Why?_ It didn’t make sense. Tom didn’t even _like_ him _—_

Harry cursed when his foot caught on a stubborn root, nearly toppling to the ground. He should be focusing on running, not thinking about _Tom_.

And yet, Harry could not help himself. He could not fight the multitude of thoughts assaulting his mind. All of them different images of Tom’s face in varying stages of irritation...of his face twisted into a smile when something particularly amusing was said...of his eyes flashing brightly with mischief when someone fell helplessly into his grasp.

Harry could not get the thoughts out of his head, the world suddenly spinning when the heat engulfing him suddenly flared. Almost as though it were reminding him that it was still there, that _yes_ , _you might still die from the humidity clinging to your limbs...the heat lapping at you as if thirsty for your—_

Harry stumbled a second time over another root, the vine more sturdy than the last, clinging like a vice around his ankle. It was a miracle he hadn’t fallen straight on his _—_

_Thud._

Harry paused mid-motion, fingers hovering over the vine caught around his ankle.

He wasn’t alone. Something was there with him. A _something_ that made all the hairs on Harry’s arms stand on end.

It was a soft thud. Something Harry might not have caught had he not stopped for a second to release his ankle, but he was _certain_ he’d heard it.

“T-tom?” Harry whispered, unwilling to raise his voice in this foreign place. Hoping, even though it was stupid, that his commander had gotten a hold of himself and had decided to meet him on the way back to the ship.

There was no answer.

Harry slowly rose from his kneeling position on the ground, the vine unlatching easily from his ankle after a firm yank. He didn’t dare breathe too loudly, moving slowly away from the vine limp on the ground.

If this was Tom, or anyone that he knew, they would have at least _said_ something. Tom was not the quiet sort. Getting the man to shut up was a more difficult task than getting him to change his mind.

_This...something wasn’t right._

Everything about this entire situation screamed danger. Especially when his skin began to burn something fierce.

It was as though someone had spilled battery acid on his flesh. The corrosive agent like a venomous mouth, hot and wet as it seared through flesh and melted bone. It was the worst thing Harry had ever experienced in his life, and it took everything inside him to not scratch to relieve some of that discomfort.

It would be of little use if he did. Scratching would probably only make it worse. He had learned early on that giving in to those urges when they manifested were more life-threatening than the side effects themselves. This was a foreign world and there was simply no telling just how badly things could go if he simply gave in. It was already bad enough that he’d exposed himself to the atmosphere in the first place.

Trees rustled, and Harry’s breath hitched in shock when a shadow leaped from one bush to the other.

Harry had yet to come across life in this forest. It had all just been plants so far. Beautiful, verdant foliage that wrapped almost endlessly around the trunks of trees. It was the opposite of everything that the Earth Harry had known all his life. Where this was all nature, Earth was all concrete and metal. Unyielding and relentless where this world was soft and almost beautiful.

And that was _dangerous_.

At least on Earth, no one could ever claim that they were deceived. No one could ever claim that Earth was soft and kind. That there were no risks in living in a place dominated by technology and artificial life. Man and machine were more than just two factions in his homeworld, but were  _one_. A vast amalgamation of warriors that danced the fine line between human and cyborg.

Here, there was no telling what lurked in the dark. There were no bots to notify anyone of the latest crimes of the week. There were no announcements to warn away tired shop owners that their shop might be raided next. There were _lights_ on Earth. There were _people_ , whether human or machine, to greet you when you stepped out of your sterile home.

The trees shook, and Harry did not stick around to find out just what creature it was. He turned and ran deeper into the emerald, ignoring the way vines clung onto his shoulders and thighs as he trekked through the foliage in search of the ship.

 _Fuck_ , if only he’d had his locator device. Tom had been the one holding it before everything had gone south...and now, nothing short of a miracle would lead Harry back.

Why did he have to always ignore protocol? Why did he have to chase after adventure when clearly, the more sensible decision was to run a diagnostic before throwing himself headfirst into the terrain?

_Stupid, just fucking stupid._

And he didn’t even have Tom to nag him through this whole fiasco. It was typical for him to get into a mess and eventually find a way out with Tom’s antagonistic assistance. But now, he wasn’t so sure.

 _Your luck has finally run out then, moron_ , a voice that sounded an awful like Tom’s hiss into his ear.

“ _Haaaarry.”_

Fear shot down Harry’s spine. The sound had come from somewhere behind him. Only a few feet away from where he had been seconds before.

But it wasn’t how close the voice sounded that had Harry pushing his legs harder. No. That wasn’t entirely the reason, even as he skirted away from gnarled roots and thin vines that wanted to slow him down.

It was the fact that he recognized that voice.

It was _Tom_. Harry would know that soft croon anywhere. He’d heard that baritone enough times to know just who it was that was chasing after him.

But _god_ , Tom’s voice sounded all wrong.

It could have been a stranger. It could have been someone else entirely with the way Tom had said Harry’s name.

Harry gasped when something brushed against the nape of his neck. Startled by the brief brush of heat against his bare neck. Had his suit been destroyed to such an extent that he was that exposed? That even his neck was exposed to the atmosphere that seeped through the torn edges of his suit?

Harry briefly glanced down and scrunched his nose in surprise. Could this even qualify as a suit? It would have been too generous a statement considering the only thing keeping the fabric clinging to him were the thin straps from the harness on his chest and the belt looped around his waist.

He was practically naked.

It made no bloody sense how _trees_ could do something like that. How Harry’s helmet was still miraculously strapped to his face, Harry had no idea.

His nudity certainly explained why his skin felt like it were about to melt right off his bones. It was not the _air_ that was the cause of it. No, it was the fact that there were three massive stars on this planet bearing down on his flesh.

The heat, the unbearable blistering of his flesh—it all was easily explained away by his current state of undress.

Though that still did not explain the strange heat that had licked along the nape of his neck.

_What was that? What was—_

Harry had one split second to brace himself before he was falling, his foot tangling on another tree root. He tumbled onto the unforgiving ground, his arms shooting out to break his fall.

Whatever remained of his gloves came away on the ground, smearing like paint on a canvas until bare skin pressed against moist grass.

Harry heaved a deep breath, face a sliver away from the ground. It was short miracle that he hadn’t bashed his face into the tree just inches away from his face; that somehow, he had not lost his teeth when he dropped. But Harry could not find it within himself to be relieved by this.

Something was lurking in the shadows.

Harry tried to yank his foot free when his world around him finally ceased spinning. The root refused to let him go, even as he tried to scurry away, knowing that Tom, or whatever it was that had mind jacked him, was not too far away.

 _If it was even Tom at all..._ An insidious thought whispered in the back of Harry’s mind.

Harry stamped the thought down before he could let it unsettle him further.

_Calm down, Harry. There’s no time for you to panic now._

He fought with the root, gloved fingers struggling with the stubborn vine that refused to let him go. The tangle was almost knotted around his slim ankle, and the more he pulled, the more it seemed to squeeze harder around his limb.

Something rustled a short distance behind him, and desperation flared to life in his stomach. His firm yanks became frantic, even as he tried to settle the panic that began to twist inside him more tightly than the root around his ankle.

“ _Harry.”_

There was no time to move before a hand dropped onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry released a sharp exhale and tried to shove off the grip. But it was unyielding, digging so deeply into his bare skin that Harry actually _groaned_ from the pain. It dug into a sensitive point in his shoulder, and before he could jerk his body away, a tree vine still caught within his hand, Harry was shoved onto his back.

The world spun. Green and brown blurred along his vision. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening. All he could recognize were the streaks of green from the trees and black shadows from the stars above his head before something dropped onto his stomach and he lost himself to the hysteria.

All the air in Harry’s lungs rushed out in a wheeze, and Harry struck out with clenched fists, desperation urging him to get whatever it was off of him. His stomach cramped, but Harry didn’t stop. The pressure was relentless.

Harry couldn’t _breathe_. It felt like a boulder had landed on his chest, its weight refusing to abate no matter how furiously Harry struggled beneath it.

Nails bit into something soft yet firm, knuckles wedged themselves wherever they could, and still, there was no sign of the weight leaving. His scratching and clawing became more urgent when his vision suddenly began to blur, when the streak of black and white melted into one.

_Come on. Come on!_

Then, the weight lifted slightly, and Harry sucked greedy breaths through his wide mouth.

Harry didn’t know how long he choked on air, trembling and coughing until he could assess his surroundings. Perhaps, that was why it’d taken him so long to realize that the shadow over his face was not an actual _shadow,_ but a head of dark hair or that the white that had bled through his gaze was not his consciousness fading, but actual skin.

A lump settled firmly in his throat, realization like a heavy stone in his navel.

The pressure on his chest wasn’t an _it_ . It wasn’t some creature flitting about the terrain in search of prey, but a _who_.

It was... _Tom._

 _But was this really, Tom?_ That same insidious voice whispered in the back of Harry’s mind.

Harry gasped when Tom’s face hovered too close to his own, leaning in closer than Harry had ever been to him before.

Could the person pinning him down to the ground, fingers digging painfully into his shoulders, be his commander? The man he had run from and who he had planned to return to once he rendezvoused with the rest of the crew?

Harry stopped struggling to look at Tom more closely. He needed to _know_ , needed to be sure.

Tom’s hair was in complete disarray. None of the soft curls and tamed locks remained now. They were windblown, as though the man had racked his fingers through them ceaselessly.

Harry swallowed hard, unsure of how to even respond. He had never seen his commander like this before. Tom was always controlled. Impeccably dressed with his hair brushed back. A physical representation of his authority.

Tom had always been untouchable. No flaws in the man’s armor, even when weakened by hunger or injury. No dings or scrapes, even when he was clearly exhausted after weeks of pouring over mission plans.

But the Tom that Harry knew was not the man pinning him to the ground. There were hardly any similarities between his commander and the...other that loomed over him.

The glass of Harry’s helmet fogged when Tom’s hot breath fanned against the glass. Harry strained to see past the white that suddenly obscured his vision, his hands clamping over Tom’s hands that were still digging into his shoulders.

The muscles were tense beneath Harry’s gloved fingers, tight and unyielding even as Harry tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart. He was terrified.

This was _not_ Tom. This thing looked like him, but that was where the resemblance simply ended. The monster wore Tom’s face, but it was _not_ him. Nothing in the world could make Harry think otherwise, especially when—

“I told you to run… _”_

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly nauseous when the creature did not even _sound_ like his commander.

It was a warped version of the smooth baritone Harry often listened to when dozing off during mission debriefings. It was a predatory growl, Tom’s authoritative and dulcet purr notably absent. As though the sound had come from somewhere deep in the man’s throat.

Harry tried not to flinch when Tom’s grip tightened when Harry tried to pry Tom’s hands away, when Harry shifted beneath Tom to throw the man off.

“Fool…” Tom purred. The sound like nails on a chalkboard, unsettling in a way that made all the hairs on Harry’s neck stand on end.

Then, before Harry could think to respond, Tom released his shoulder to wipe at the fog that had accumulated over Harry’s visor. Dread coiled around his spine tight enough to snap.

“What are you—?”

Harry did not finish speaking, suddenly at a loss for words. As if he’d been struck by lightning, electricity set his nerves aflame. Everything went out of focus except the harrowing reality that instead of the familiar black of Commander Tom Riddle’s eyes, eyes he spent more time looking at than he’d rather admit.

_Tom’s eyes were red._

The color of freshly spilled blood.

Harry’s stomach churned, sickness making itself known even when Tom’s grip on his shoulder eased for one moment to curl around his wrist. The man’s fingers dug into the skin, but Harry hardly paid it any mind.

This was not the man Harry had left behind when he had been ordered to run. This was not his commander, the man he had given his trust to indefinitely despite his many reservations.

This was a _stranger_.

“W-what have you done to Tom?” Harry asked, breaths coming quickly when the hand that had wiped his helmet curled around the bottom of the clasp.

“I am right here.”

Harry didn’t believe a word he said.

The press of the man’s body on his, the fingers playing with the clasp keeping his helmet on his head, the strange heat flaring around him; Tom would _never_ do that.

When Harry failed to respond, Tom yanked at the clasp, loosening it from its tight hold on Harry’s chin.

“And you smell...so _good_.” Tom practically moaned the words out and Harry could no longer remain immobile. He bucked up, but Tom must have somehow sensed his intentions—must have felt every single muscle in Harry’s body, because Tom was suddenly on him.

Tom ripped the helmet from off Harry’s face, and all Harry could make out in that second was the savage twist of the man’s lips and the bright light from the three suns shining on his head.

He was blinded by the brightness. Dark spots danced across Harry’s vision, but he did no more than gasp before Tom’s face lowered and his lips skirted across the hard shell of his ear. It burned him from the inside out, the familiar heat teasing along the nape of his neck enough to make his teeth numb in his mouth.

_What’s happening?_

Harry had one brief moment to inhale before he was suddenly aflame. His flesh sizzled and his stomach twisted. It spread through him, touching him wherever flesh met air. His throat became dry, like a desert had nestled itself between his voice box and his esophagus.

It was unbearable.

“W-what?” Harry choked, each breath making the heat swell inside him like a balloon.

“Can you feel it, Harry? How the heat twists and writhes inside you?” Tom asked, but Harry was no longer listening. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

His mind had clouded over, like the static of the intercom when it lost signal.

Tom’s face blurred at the corner of his vision, the bright red of the man’s eyes the only thing Harry could make out through the haze.

The man’s eyes were so luminous. Its undulations almost...tantalizing the longer Harry stared.

“Can you feel it? Feel _me_ , Harry?” Tom crooned.

There were no words. The foreign sensation, this overwhelming heat was suffocating. It overtook him, the commander’s bright eyes making his mind swim.

 _He looked..._ Harry could not describe it. The fear had gone. None of the unease that had overtaken him earlier remained. It all seemed so far away, like a distant memory that grew further and further away with each shaky inhale.

The _air_.

There was something about it that Harry should have understood. A silent signal that he should have discerned. _Something about the air._ But the thought soon was eroded by the fire eating away at his sanity. His inhibitions, his rationality, all melted into something _sweeter—_

_And delicious. So desirable that his tongue longed more of the taste. The pulse of his heart forgotten, the fear and the unease swimming in his head lost to this decadence._

Harry’s throat burned, suddenly dry. Parched with his need to drink, to sate himself now on the promises of this ambrosia.

 _God_ , he needed it. Craved it. He’d die without, shrivel up and dissolve into dust if he didn’t glut himself on the taste. It made no sense, but he didn’t need to understand it to want it.

_Please._

“I-I—”

Harry arched his back, mouth parting into a pained whine. His skin was being eaten alive by this thirst that licked at his flesh mercilessly. There was no escape, no reprieve. Wherever it was that Tom touched, wherever it was that hot air met flesh, Harry’s self-control waned—overridden by this inferno.

 _Would it be so bad to burn?_ A voice whispered in his head, one that sounded too far away for him to recognize. _Would it be so terrible to blister from a touch? To become dust?_

Tom devoured him with his gaze, pupils blown wide with his hunger.

_Please god._

Harry’s fingers wound around the man’s neck, and he pulled him closer, mouth seeking out the man’s lips glistening brightly with saliva.

Tom’s fingers slipped beneath his suit, tearing what remained of the fabric without hesitation.

 _Yes_.

Harry didn’t care, didn’t think of anything except the feeling of Tom’s mouth on his, of the way his tongue slid over the man’s bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth to _bite, bite, and bite until he bled._

Iron coated his tongue, and _god,_ it tasted heavenly. Sweeter than Harry had ever imagined, better than the various nights he dreamt of Tom’s mouth near his when arguing over something _stupid_ after a meeting.

“T-tom,” Harry tore his lips away to moan, twisting beneath him and seeking out more of Tom’s touch, because _god_ , he wanted more. Needed to feel more of Tom against his skin.

_More. More. Mo—_

“Tell me,” Tom whispered before capturing Harry’s lips this time, his tongue tasting his own blood and Harry’s saliva.

Toes curling, Harry’s hands slipped down Tom’s shoulders, yanking and tearing at the man’s suit in the same way Tom had virtually torn at his. He didn’t leave one inch of flesh uncovered, reveling in the way Tom pressed closer, chest brushing along his once it’d been freed of that unwanted hindrance.

Let them _burn_ . Let everything burn if it meant the thirst stopped, if it meant that Harry could get _more_.

“Yes, g-god. Touch me, please. I-I don’t know what’s happening, but just fucking _touch_ me.”

Tom groaned, eyes flashing with something violent before his teeth closed Harry’s bottom lip and bit down. Pain shot up Harry’s spine, but he did not dare push him away. No, the pain was okay. The violence was nothing to the burn in his esophagus, than the desire twisting inside him. It urged him to melt between Tom’s bones, to part open his stomach and slip inside, and he _would—_

_Don’t you want him, Harry?_

_Yes_ , Harry shouted in his head, growing dizzy when Tom’s mouth made it difficult to breathe.

A distorted version of Harry’s own voice laughed within his head, its echoes bleeding through each wrinkle of his brain until his vision became tinged red. Like the color of pink roses blooming in the spring, the promise of love and romance thick in each slant of its thorns.

 _Show him just how much you_ **_want_ ** _him, Harry._

Harry’s hands delved lower on Tom’s body, uncaring of the press of the hard ground beneath his back or the heavy weight burrowed against his chest. Eyes wet with unshed tears, with his need to show him just how much this _aches—_

_How much he burns. God, this hurts. It hurts._

Tom’s fingers slipped away from Harry’s neck and down his chest, thumb brushing over his nipples to stiffen them into awareness.

Moaning, Harry’s thoughts twisted, the pain momentarily relieved by the persistent flick of Tom’s fingers against him, rolling his nipples expertly to make Harry’s back bend.

_Please. It hurts._

Harry kissed him, right hand digging into Tom’s hair to force his mouth harder against his, to suck Tom’s tongue into his mouth. His teeth closed around his tongue, throat heavy with the taste of iron in his mouth.

 _God_ , it should have repulsed him, but when Tom’s tongue curled over his lips, teased his gums, and tasted the roof of his mouth, Harry thought little of the blood.

“How much do you want this?” Tom said between languid kisses, his hand grasping onto Harry’s shaking one and forcing it against his belt buckle. He was hard beneath the fabric, practically pulsing in time with the rapid beating of his heart.

There was little doubt in Harry’s mind that Tom wanted him. There was no greater evidence, no better proof than the hard flesh within his palm. Harry gave it a squeeze, stomach clenching when Tom’s mouth pulled away to moan.

“How much do you want my _cock_ , Harry?” Tom groaned, squeezing Harry’s hand around his prick, rocking back and forth to set a steady rhythm into his hand.

Harry only watched, undone by the slow roll of Tom’s hips and the way his teeth closed over Harry’s bottom lip, the sting making his insides quiver.

“ _Yess_ —” Tom hissed, rocking faster into Harry’s hand. Edging closer and closer to his own orgasm at Harry’s expense.

But still, Harry did not move. He could scarcely breathe, his own cock twitching with his own desire, wet and aching to feel Tom’s hand against it.

“—Just say the _word,_ Harry, and it’s all yours _._ ”

What little control Harry had shattered.

One moment Tom was stroking himself with Harry’s hand caught within his, and the next, Harry was twisting them around, forcing open what remained of the man’s suit to expose Tom’s hard cock to his gaze.

Harry’s breath hitched, eyes settling over the thin patch of hair that traveled up Tom’s navel and down, gaze unwittingly drawn lower and lower until he was gazing at Tom’s cock. It was thick, the glans swollen and red, the tip oozing pre-cum. The sunlight made the skin gleam, made Harry’s mouth water, tempted to lean over and suck. Throat suddenly dry, _aching_ to quench that thirst burning him from the inside out, tempted by the bead of moisture at the tip.

“ _Say it.”_

“Please, I _want_ your cock. Just touch me, Tom, I’m so thirsty,” Harry gasped, straddling Tom’s hips and relishing the feeling of Tom’s hands digging into his sides and tearing off what little remained of his suit, exposing his arse and cock to the hot and humid air.

_Please. Please. Please—_

His flesh was burning up, but Harry knew that it was a fire only Tom could control. The promise in the man’s eyes, the devious slant of his mouth and the curl of his lashes was evidence of that. It was his touch that set him aflame, distracted him from something _important_ —

“ _Harry_.”

Harry pressed closer, swooping down to devour Tom’s lips. A high pitched cry rumbled in his throat when Tom’s fingers brushed over his nipples. Soft and gentle. Unlike the violence of his teeth against his mouth earlier, unlike the swirl of desire swimming in the red of Tom’s irises.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

“ _More_ ,” Harry begged into Tom’s mouth, hand curling into the man’s hair and yanking him closer, rocking back and forth for more friction. Tom did not need to be asked twice, for, in seconds, his fingers were pinching and rolling the nubs between his fingers.

There was a rumble in Tom’s throat, like that of a cat’s, and Harry was lost to the sound, licking and biting at Tom’s mouth. Violent, even when his fingers were still too gentle, even when Harry wanted to be burned alive by the man’s touch.

Then, the hands were everywhere. They scratched against his chest, drawing red lines along Harry’s tan skin. Fingers wedged into his belly, gripping and moving him around to push his hips into Tom’s, to work him into a frenzy.

Dark spots danced along Harry’s vision, the world growing murkier the longer he remained lip locked to Tom. But he couldn’t pull away, didn’t want to. His throat hurt, his insides _hurt,_ everything was screaming and—

Tom’s hands settled over his hips, and pulled him up, cutting him off from the mounting pressure building in his navel.

“D-don’t st—” Harry did not finish his words. Tom lined their bodies together, a hand pulling away from his hip to slide from Harry’s bollocks to his perineum and further back—

“— _Ah,_ ” Harry threw his head back and away from Tom’s mouth when Tom shoved two fingers inside, slicked only by Harry’s pre-cum. It was uncomfortable, but at that moment, the burn waned. The haze, the fire, the desperate thirst drying up his esophagus abated, put to rest by the press of Tom’s fingers.

“You’re so soft, Harry,” Tom murmured, punctuating his words by pushing and pulling his fingers, twisting as if in search of something. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever experienced, but it wasn’t the _best_ , it wasn’t like the taste of Tom’s mouth or the feeling of his cock pressed against his.

“T-tom, I-I don’t know what you’re doing but—”

Harry’s vision went white.

Tom shoved a third finger inside and twisted. White sparks flashed behind his eyes, his mouth parting to release a loud cry.

The feeling was indescribable. It was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced. Not even his lonely orgasms when bunked back in his room, fingers wrapped around his spent cock, could compare.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, Harry. So good. _”_ Tom leaned in to whisper into his ear, pulling his fingers out of Harry’s arse to brush his cock against his hole.

Harry quivered, the heat slowly flaring to life at Tom’s absence. It ate away at his insides, the same frightening burn propelling him forward. With a low breath, Harry gripped either side of Tom’s shoulders, parting his legs wider to make the position more comfortable.

“Do you want to feel good, my precious boy?” Tom asked, and Harry nodded, sighing when the head of Tom’s cock pressed more firmly against his taint, breaching the tight ring of muscle. “To make this all go away?”

“Pl _—ah!”_

Harry screamed when Tom buried himself to the hilt, unable to wait any longer for Harry to respond.

It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt—_

“ _Shhh_ , patience. You’ll get used to it.” Tom reassured, body stilling to allow Harry a moment to adjust. His hands, however, skirted up Harry’s sides. They scratched along the quivering skin, playing with areas more sensitive than others, settling over his nipples once again.

Tom toyed with the nubs, alternating between teasing and pinching them between his thumb and forefinger. All, until Harry no longer suffered, until the pain melted away, the heat soothingly gone even when his insides felt as though they’d been ground to a pulp.

“Better?” Tom asked, and Harry nodded, eyes falling shut when Tom moved, burying more of his cock inside. The pace was slow and languid. Unlike the violence from earlier. Harry sighed, high pitched mewls and low moans escaping his lips when Tom fucked him.

Slowly, so _unbearably_ slowly.

“N-not enough.” Harry hissed, a sharp cry leaving him when Tom snapped his fingers inside him, right hand dropping to his bouncing prick to squeeze it within his palm. A nail teased at the small hole, his hand stroking his cock in rhythm each time Tom rolled his hips and buried his cock back inside.

Harry pushed onto Tom’s cock, burying more of it inside, using Tom’s shoulders as leverage. The man wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t going to be enough to keep the heat at bay, to stop the slow burn creeping from his lungs all the way up to his throat.

“P-please, fuck me harder. It’s not enough, it’s _not enough—_ ”

A slow smile crept up Tom’s face, and then he snapped his hips more violently, the sensation enough to send a shock of something delicious up his spine, to make his toes curl with blissful ecstasy.

“As you wish.”

Tom rolled them onto the ground, Harry’s back landing on the soft blades of grass beneath them. The points stabbed him, but he didn’t mind. Not when Tom grabbed his leg and slung it over his shoulders to fuck him deeper and longer, the wet schlick of his dick working Harry open, stretching him further.

“I am here to serve.”

A kaleidoscope of color flashed in the back of his eyelids, the familiar zing crawling up his spine. Like a current of electricity, each of his fingers tingled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“ _Ah!”_ Harry screamed himself hoarse, Tom’s pace brutal and unyielding, slamming into that spot hidden inside him until his thoughts were a mess.

There was only color, only the unique feeling of Tom’s hands settling on either side of his head as he fucked into his arse. Nothing mattered but that pleasure, but the way the heat faded with each slap of Tom’s hips against his arse.

His throat no longer felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton, his insides now a writhing mass of hormones that gave him no time to think, to realize that his mind was his own, that he shouldn’t be doing this with his commander.

Tom kissed him again, sucked him into his mouth and taste him. All of him. Gentle, and unlike the violence of his body against his. A show of affection, one that made tears gather in the corner of Harry’s gaze, that made him break in two.

_Tom…_

Then, all went dark. Color faded from his recognition, his body locking as he exploded, cum shooting over his stomach and Tom’s.

A wave of exhaustion overcame him, settling into the marrow of his bones. It weighed him down, the heat and the suffocating thirst dissipating as if it never was from the power of his own orgasm. Tom continued to plunge inside him, but Harry did not have it in him to stop him, even when each rock against that strange spot inside him made him see the galaxy come alive behind his eyelids.

_Commander Riddle…_

Harry’s thoughts were hazy. Barely there like the smoke of the exhaust of his ship.

_I fucked Commander Riddle…_

Harry wanted to laugh. To cry, and _cry_ because this wasn’t how he wanted it to be. This wasn’t how he wanted things to go. Tom...this wasn’t _Tom._ Whatever it was that had possessed Tom had possessed him too.

It hadn’t been real. None of it had.

It was artificial. Something in the air that had enslaved them to their own desires, that had made their skin _burn_.

“ _H-harry_.”

Tom shuddered before he spent himself inside Harry’s arse, drenching his insides with cum. Harry was only capable of a short moan, too overwhelmed with the implications of what he’d _done_ to mind at all that he’d come inside him.

_God, what have I done?_

“Harry?” Tom slurred, the red of his irises slowly melting into familiar obsidian.

Harry tried to cover himself, to move away to hide the evidence of what they’d done, but his body was useless. All he could manage was a twitch before bone-deep exhaustion and weakness made him collapse right back down where he lay.

“A-are you alright?” Tom said, and Harry watched as his commander’s composure—what little of it remained after fucking Harry _senseless_ —crumpled. “What did I _do_ to you?”

Harry watched various expressions flash over Tom’s face, mouth twisting into a grimace when he realized that his cock was still inside Harry.

Then, Tom made to reach out and cup his face but stopped right as he was about to touch him. His hand curled into a fist, unable to go further. Harry’s heart nearly stuttered to a stop, pained by the flash of confusion and distress on Tom’s face.

_No. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be._

“Tom.” Harry’s hand caught Tom’s before he could pull away entirely, legs locking weakly around Tom’s waist. He had to explain this, to tell him how he felt, that—

“Don’t,” Tom said, pulling himself away from Harry entirely, a look of something that looked like regret flashing over his face before getting up on his shaky feet and turning away.

_Don’t walk away from me. Don’t. Please._

“Look at me, Tom. _Look at me_ . This wasn’t you. None of this was _you_.”

Tom did not make any indication that he’d heard, that he would even honor Harry’s request. Harry tried not to let this demoralize him, to deter him from saying what he needed to say. His commander was blaming himself, even if he would never admit it.

No, if this was _anyone’s_ fault, it was Harry’s for bringing them out here in the first place. Tom would never have touched him, otherwise.

Harry wasn’t sure if that notion made him feel better or worse.

“You’re an arsehole, but you’d never do something like this in your right mind. Whatever the hell is going on with this planet, it wasn’t you. You’re only a man, Tom. Even I...I gave in too.” Harry whispered, propping himself on his elbows despite the sharp pain that shot up his spine with each inch he moved.

“But I am not just a man, Harry. I am more than that,” Tom said, turning around to look at Harry. His dark eyes were impenetrable, his lips set into a thin line.

Harry’s heart ached.

“ _You_ are human, but I am not. I should have fought the elements harder, I should have resisted temptation before I—”

Tom did not finish, not needing to. They both knew what it was that he was about to say.

“...Tom, _look at me_.”

Harry didn’t know if it was something in his tone that made the man listen, or if it was just the heavy guilt sitting in the man’s chest. Either way, Harry was grateful nevertheless when Tom did.

“You are my commander. The biggest bastard I know, but you aren’t a monster. You aren’t that thing this planet made you into, and you will never be _to me_. I—”

Harry swallowed, growing self-conscious underneath Tom’s stare. The man had yet to say anything, but still, he was bearing his soul out to him. Airing for the first time the unspoken thing between them after years of avoiding it as much as possible.

_If only it didn’t have to be like this...why couldn’t anything ever be simple?_

“I care about you, Tom. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I let you bear through this guilt on your own. If anyone is at fault for this whole mess, it’s _me_. I can’t stand to see you close yourself off. I don’t think I could bear it.”

Harry was panting by the end of it, his voice growing louder and louder the more emboldened he felt. He didn’t look away from Tom even when Tom’s eyes widened with shock or his mouth parted in awe. It was now or never.

“Harry, I—” Tom paused mid-sentence, and Harry could have sworn his heart stopped beating in his chest when Tom closed the space between them in two short strides and dropped to his knees in front of him.

“Are you certain?” Tom tried again, his arm extending outward to help Harry up into a sitting position on the ground. “Do you truly mean all of that?”

Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Maybe both.

“Yes. All of it.”

There was a pregnant pause where neither of them said anything. It was only the rustling of the trees and the sound of their breaths fleeing their lungs.

Harry’s breath caught when Tom suddenly moved, his mind going into overdrive with a variety of awful directions this entire thing could go.

Images of Tom laughing at him flashed behind his mind’s eye, and the sound of Tom’s harsh censure echoed in his brain, and Harry wondered if this was how it would end. If maybe, whatever it was that they’d left unsaid would die before it had ever begun.

But rather than any of those scenarios, than any of the stupid things Harry had come up with within a fraction of a second, Tom smiled. A beautiful, radiant expression lit over his face, putting Harry entirely under cardiac arrest.

“Thank you.”

Harry’s brain short-circuited, watching with wide and hopeful eyes as Tom leaned in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. It burned in an entirely pleasant way—vastly different from the thirst that had driven them both entirely mad.

“I feel the exact same.”


End file.
